


Showtime

by KittyAugust (KittyAug)



Series: Harry Potter - Fests & Prompts [14]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, F/F, F/M, Light Bondage, Multi, Sexual Roleplay, Shower Sex, Threesome - F/F/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 05:54:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13229415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyAug/pseuds/KittyAugust
Summary: Hermione has been caught peeping on Pansy, so Pansy decides to call in Draco to help her deal some suitable punishment to her Gryffindor spy. Or at least, that's what it seems...





	Showtime

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scarletladyy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletladyy/gifts).



> This was first posted at [HP 3some Fest](http://hp-3somes.livejournal.com/58046.html) on LJ all the way back in May 2017 but I forgot to post it to AO3. Oops!

Hermione squirms against Pansy Parkinson's hastily cast  _Incarcerous_. Pansy stalks over, heels much higher than regulation clicking on golden tile as she does so. She takes the wand out of Hermione's hand and places it, uncharacteristically carefully, on the nearby vanity. Hermione's not sure if she's more distressed by the messy spellwork holding her down or the bathroom decor and the pink and gilt of the chair she is currently tied to. Knowing Pansy, it's purposefully poor. She tries to ignore the discomfort of both, and forces herself to look into Pansy's dark eyes. She gets a little lost there in the umber and gold flecked depths but Pansy pulls her back out of it with a sharp stinging slap across her left cheek. The pain stays, throbbing and hot, and Hermione knows there's a mark.

"How dare you," Parkinson says, nasal and posh and everything that Hermione ought to hate. It makes her hot between the thighs instead and Hermione looks away a moment, breaking Pansy's knowing gaze before her blush broadcasts her feelings.

She doesn't respond to Pansy’s question, knowing from experience that Pansy will make her pay if she does.

"Hmph," says Pansy when Hermione refuses to answer. Pansy tugs a little at her too-short skirt, checks her half-unbuttoned Slytherin blouse and then calls out over her shoulder. "Draco!" Commanding and full of privileged expectation, but followed by a less convincing: "Help?"

Malfoy sweeps into the room on cue, every strand of satin blond hair in place and smirking smugly at Hermione's predicament. He really is intolerable; too bad he got so good looking. Hermione ignores the thrill of anticipation it gives her. She settles for a mildly repressive frown, but just as it does with Pansy, the expression simply seems to encourage him to greater heights of deviousness. The familiarity of his reaction makes the newness of his presence easier to handle. Hermione doesn't particularly want him, but Pansy does and that's enough to make Hermione covet him too.

"What have you got there, Pansy?" Malfoy asks.

"This mudblood was spying on me, Draco. I was about to take a bath and everything." Pansy fakes an innocent fluster.

The filthy epithet rolls over Hermione's skin, sickening and embarrassing all at once. She still hates it, but from Pansy's painted lips it gets twisted into something else. Something she can control even as it stings. She tugs uselessly, against the shimmering red bonds once more.

"How horrid for you, darling." Malfoy's tone is sugary and so smug it's a wonder he can stand under the weight of it. He wraps his lean arms around Pansy's generous curves, pulling her in close in a show of false comfort.

"It was!" Pansy agrees, equally false, and gives Malfoy a look like he hung the stars and she can't remember that Hermione is there even while talking about her. It reminds Hermione of the way Pansy had simpered over Malfoy at Hogwarts, which is the point of this whole game. Control. Taking what she hates and making it her own. The feeling settles in her stomach, hot and envious and needy all at once. She had always wondered, and now she'll know. Jealousy and desire walk a fine line, hand-in-hand, deep in her bones.

"Now then," Malfoy says, breaking the drawn-out and affected affection with a final caress to Pansy's cheek. "If Granger wants a show, then I think we should give her one. What do you think, Pansy?"

Pansy smirks up at him, dangerous and sexy all at once. Then she lunges, suddenly sick of slow, and grabs Malfoy's tie. She pulls him up close and snogs him for all she's worth. Cherry red lipstick smudges into his creamy white skin and the kiss leaves even Malfoy flushed and flustered. Pansy knows the effect she has on men, it's her job, and she uses every ounce of that effect right now.

Malfoy's hands are all over Pansy's delicate flesh, he tugs at her blouse and cups her breasts as if he's not sure if he can stop touching long enough to gain more access. His other hand pulls her closer, holds onto her waist as if he might lose all semblance of control if he lets her go. Hermione knows what that feels like. Knows the way Pansy can drive a lover wild with nothing but her tongue and the writhing pressure of her body.

Hermione whimpers and they remember she's there.

Malfoy spins Pansy so she's facing Hermione then slides himself around and behind her, looking over Pansy's shoulder to watch Hermione react.

He draws his wand and flicks his wrist, but instead of Banishing Pansy's clothes, he takes Hermione's. Leaving her flushed, naked and exposed, but still bound to the horrible chair. She squirms under their combined gaze. Pansy's dark eyes appreciative as they caress Hermione's body and Malfoy's still cold and icy grey. The magic of Pansy's  _Incarcerous_  tingles hot and familiar, like lust-fire against Hermione's skin.

"Pansy can't be the only one exposed," Malfoy explains when Hermione struggles and glares. "That wouldn't be fair, now would it Granger? And we all know how you feel about fair. When you're not peeping on Pansy, anyway."

He's always known how to cut a little too close to home. He smiles at Hermione, then kisses Pansy's neck. Pansy arches into it, granting him access to the fine line of her throat.

As he kisses her slowly, Malfoy starts to unbutton the rest of Pansy's already minimal blouse. Each inch of tantalising skin makes Hermione ache.

Malfoy's skin looks like porcelain against Pansy's alabaster, a contract of creamy golds and tempting silks. Hermione's breath catches as Malfoy reaches Pansy's belt. He pushes Pansy's skirt down her thighs and nudges her to step out of it. She stands there in nothing but lace stockings and suspenders. She doesn't bother with mundane things like bras and panties. Knowing that as a fact as well as a fantasy is its own kind of curse. Pretty nice, as curses go. The knowledge has settled in Hermione's blood and wound into her magic, leaving a simmering desire to touch, taste, and test the limits of Pansy's kinks.

Malfoy hums appreciatively and continues to stroke Pansy's body in smooth possessive ways. His fingertips dig into Pansy's skin and he moves dangerously slow while that perpetual smirk curls still the corner of his mouth. He shrugs out of his own immaculate robe like an afterthought; shirt, trousers and air of command still firmly in place.

Pansy moans and rolls her head back onto Malfoy's shoulder when one of his wandering hands finally finds her clit. Softly, softly. The movement leaves Pansy's throat bared to Hermione, like a promise, then Malfoy bites Pansy's neck, kisses almost hard enough to mark. It's Hermione who whines with desire.

Malfoy pulls away abruptly, leaving both Hermione and Pansy panting.

"Why don't you get in that shower, Pansy? Finally give Granger what she really came for?"

Pansy smiles back at him then strips out of her stockings quickly. Malfoy sets the shower running with a careless flick of his wand, the obscenely expensive charm-work kicking in right away at the perfect temperature for its users.

Pansy steps under the steaming water first, and it is so hot it almost scalds her skin, just the way she always has it. She flushes all over from the heat and Hermione wants to lick off every drop that has the audacity to fall over those perfect curves. She wants to taste that blush.

Malfoy seems to agree. He leans against the wall for a few moments to admire her as Pansy soaps her glorious skin. Then he seems just as overcome by the sight as Hermione is because he's stripping out of his clothes and joining her without further preamble.

He looks just as good out of those tailored clothes as Hermione has always suspected. Long, elegant limbs, taut muscle and a firm, pink cock standing to attention between his legs. Pansy's seen it all before of course, but not for years. Hermione likes the way Pansy's eyes light up at the sight of all that naked man-flesh unwrapped just for her. She can see the way Pansy is cataloging Malfoy's body and deciding which parts she wants first. Indulgent and indulged all at once.

Malfoy doesn't give either woman much time to adjust before he's slithering under the spacious shower to press himself against Pansy. He kisses her with that same unstoppable passion he had before. Pansy lets him lift her and rolls her hips against his wet body insistently. He gets the unspoken message of Pansy's body and soon he thrusts into her and she moans. Hermione feels the sound in her bones, deep and satisfying and desperate all at once.

Pansy hadn't been wrong, Malfoy does have a nice cock, and it looks even better sliding deep into Pansy's writhing body. It is Hermione who cries out when Pansy comes--she knows what that feels like, the warm velvet heat of Pansy's body, the shuddering clenching as her orgasm washes over her, the wild abandon in her face and the contortions of her flesh. It must feel fantastic on Malfoy's hard cock. Pansy pulls him closer and then Malfoy comes too. It's almost beautiful. Malfoy's haughty features slacken for a moment, overcome by bliss.

His grey eyes seem glassy and his movements genuinely sluggish as he lowers Pansy back to her feet. Pansy reaches up and kisses him. Long and slow, before stepping out of the shower and throwing a towel at him as soon as he flicks the shower off.

Hermione can feel her own pulse rushing in her body, her thighs sticky with her own desire as Malfoy smirks back over at her.

"Tell me what Granger tastes like," Malfoy whispers over Pansy's skin, just loud enough for Hermione to hear the instruction.

"Wouldn't you like to know," Pansy slings back across her shoulder. Malfoy rolls his eyes but otherwise doesn't complain about Pansy's break in character. Then Pansy drops to her knees and is crawling forward, and Hermione knows what's coming next.

Pansy licks her lips and places her hands on Hermione's knees, gently forcing her legs apart. She gets this intense look as if Hermione's cunt is the most glorious gift she's ever seen. Even diamonds don't get that kind of reaction from a Parkinson. Sometimes it's scary but right now it's nothing but sexy. Pansy still has that pink, post-orgasmic glow, her skin is temptingly wet from the shower, and Malfoy's cum is leaking down her legs. She looks debauched and Hermione wants her so bad it hurts.

Pansy's tongue is even better than her eyes. She knows just how to bring Hermione off, and she does it relentlessly. Constant, swirling licks which Hermione can't resist. She is already so turned on and is soon overcome by the blissful heat of Pansy's tongue. Pansy reads her easily and soon slides two fingers into Hermione's aching cunt. That's all it takes to topple her off that endless rolling edge and soon she's gasping Pansy's name and coming, clenching down on Pansy's deft fingers.

As the haze of her orgasm lifts, so does the binding spell and Hermione's arms are free. Soon she has a lap full of warm, still slightly damp Pansy. Hermione barely hears Pansy call a halt to the scene, then Pansy kisses her like nothing else matters. And in that moment nothing does. Pansy pets her hair and she's mumbling in Hermione's ear.

"You did so good," Pansy practically purrs. "So so good. You look so good like this, and you came so hard, I could feel it. You are amazing, Hermione."

Hermione feels yet another treacherous blush, so she shuts Pansy up the best way she knows how, with her lips. Pansy kisses back deep and meaningful. Pansy kisses Hermione the way she never kisses anyone else. She kisses Hermione like she loves her. Because she does.

Hermione doesn't need her to say it but Pansy will anyway. She always does.

"I love you," Pansy says, barely even breaking the kiss, her words and breath warm on Hermione's lips.

"I love you too," Hermione whispers back.

Malfoy clears his throat and the both blink at him in surprise. They don't bother breaking apart but Pansy does twist just enough in Hermione's lap to look at Malfoy over her shoulder.

Malfoy has his pants back on and has the good grace to look mildly awkward.

"Go get us all a cup of tea, would you Draco?" Pansy says, bored pureblood tones back in place now that the scene is officially over. "Mipsy will help you."

Malfoy raises one exquisitely manicured eyebrow at his demotion to house-elf's assistant, but he agrees, so he can't be that put out.

Pansy leads Hermione back into their disgustingly pink-tiled shower and this time the water isn't quite as hot. This is what they refer to as the compromise temperature between Pansy's too hot to handle and Hermione's practically tepid preferences. Hermione may have balked at the price when they were doing up this bathroom, but she knows good charm-work when she feels it and at times like this it has already paid for itself in the pleasure they both get from it.

This is an entirely different kind of shower sex. It's barely even sex, mostly just sensual affection. Pansy has dropped her role of demanding Slytherin princess punishing a naughty Gryffindor spy and has quite comfortably slipped back into being Pansy Parkinson-Granger. Hermione loves the games they play, loves watching Pansy getting ravaged by some attractive young witch or wizard. It's even worth letting Pansy refer to that as 'outsourcing of wifely duties' because of the way Pansy smirks when she says it. But Hermione loves this time with Pansy most of all. If she had to pick, which luckily she does not, this is the one kind of sex she couldn't give up.

Pansy's hands are soft and soap-slick on her skin. They wash each other slowly, washing away the game and washing themselves back together. They kiss slowly, and Hermione doesn't even notice until her second orgasm of the night sneaks up on her with Pansy's thigh between her legs.

When they exit the shower Pansy wraps them both in warm fluffy bath robes and holds Hermione's hand as she leads her out of the ensuite and into their master bedroom.

Malfoy is there, still wearing nothing but his trousers and sipping on what smells like lemony tea. He's reading one of Hermione's advanced arithmancy textbooks with every sign of enjoyment. His smile is even genuine when he looks up and sees them enter the room.

"You both scrub up beautifully," he says. His voice is honey smooth and Hermione kind of likes it. She hasn't had penetrative sex with a man herself since she left Ron for Pansy almost five years ago. If Malfoy keeps being such an attractive and amenable play partner she might just be willing to rethink her stance on the matter. Not tonight, but maybe next time.

 


End file.
